


The Judge's Tragedy

by Evren Rambunctious (DHume)



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHume/pseuds/Evren%20Rambunctious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(complete) AU in which Valkyrie never forgave Skulduggery for being Lord Vile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Judge's Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> In the wake of crying about the DOTL title release (and getting excited about how sad book nine is going to be, I am ready to take mr bones' wild ride all the way to feeladelphia) we thought, what's the least canon, most heartbreaking thing we can think of? more heartbreaking that DOTL is going to be? And this is what we came up with. Title shamelessly ganked from the famous Revenger's Tragedy. Love me a good Renaissance tragedy, me.

_“No,” said Valkyrie. “What do we do now? We’re partners. You’re my best friend. I love you. You were my… I looked up to you. What am I supposed to do now?”_

_He turned away. “You need to find yourself a new hero.”_

—

Stakeout.

Skulduggery sat still in the dark room, not breathing, not fidgeting. He was like a statue, when he wanted to be. Someone who didn’t know him well, couldn’t hear his voice or see the tilt of his head, they wouldn’t know what he was thinking or what he was about to do.

Valkyrie didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed how he similar he was to Lord Vile sooner.

—

They hadn’t heard from China in a while. Valkyrie assumed she was still alive, but she couldn’t be sure. How could Skulduggery forgive her? How could he _not_ , a traitorous voice in her head replied. He did the same, and worse. He killed someone’s children, someone’s mothers. He killed Ghastly’s mother.

She turned, and looked at him, humming one of the new hits that had been playing on the radio constantly that past week. He was wearing one of Ghastly’s suits, as usual. She wondered what Ghastly would do to him if he knew that his best friend had killed his mother, looked into his eyes and saw his victim’s son every time he went to get a torn jacket repaired.

—

“Do you want anything?” Skulduggery asked. It was late, and Valkyrie hadn’t eaten for hours. They’d been driving to Wales to track down some celtic symbol magic books, and the ferry hadn’t had any food, had been too noisy for her to sleep. 

“No,” she snapped, without thinking.

“Alright,” he said, a warm, amused tone to his voice. It sounded patronising. “Someone’s grumpy.”

How did he know, she thought rebelliously, how did he know what she was thinking and feeling? It’s not as if she got the privilege of seeing everything telegraphed on his face for her to read. He never slept or needed to eat. Unless they were fighting, he never looked anything but unflappable and cool, and that was just the way he wanted it.

“Leave me alone,” she muttered. She rolled over toward the window and pretended to be asleep for the rest of the journey.

—

They were fighting a low-level lackey of some idiot, a welsh mage who’d heard of them sniffing around magic books and followed them back to Ireland. He was in Haggard. Valkyrie hadn’t been back to Skulduggery’s house since they defeated the Death Bringer. She didn’t want Vile to trigger Darquesse. That’s what she told herself, anyway.

Skulduggery had been _checking up_ on her - as if she couldn’t have time to herself after nearly becoming a super villain for all time - and now stood, as if bored, watching her fend off the man in front of her. He’d already incapacitated the man’s lackeys, choking them quickly and efficiently.

He always was very good at doing that. Valkyrie didn’t know if the men were dead or not.

The idiot lunged, and Valkyrie tripped on the pavement she’d been walking on a street away from her house. 

“Come on, Valkyrie,” Skulduggery said, almost lazily, “I knew you needed the practise.”

A feeling of something angry and white-hot rose up in Valkyrie and before she knew what she was doing she’d floored the man. 

She stood, panting a little, over his unconscious form.

“Thanks for the help,” she said.

Skulduggery, not gauging her mood, laughed. “No problem.” he said, and walked to his car.

—

It was raining, and Valkyrie was sitting inside the car, Skulduggery off to get something or other from Ghastly.

The Bentley felt smaller than it used to, more shabby. She wondered if it was due to its last round of abuse or whether it had always been like this. The water dripped down the windows and some of it came in through the door.

The leather wouldn’t be happy, Valkyrie thought idly, and then realised she didn’t really care.

The driver’s door opened suddenly, letting in the cold wet wind. 

“God!” Valkyrie said, annoyed. “Let all the water in, why don’t you!”

Skulduggery folded himself in the car — he’d always done that, it must have always been this small, poky — and tilted his head at her, puzzled. Valkyrie used to think that she was special, for knowing what he meant by the way he held himself. Now she realised she’d probably been making it up. What twelve year old thinks they can read facial expressions where there are none? She’d certainly never noticed anything unusual when China or someone else had mentioned Vile.

Or maybe there was nothing to notice. Maybe he wasn’t really sorry about it.

Who had he just been to see? Ghastly. Valkyrie knew that if Darquesse took over and hurt someone she loved, she’d die. She’d never forgive herself. The vision Cassandra had had still gave her nightmares.

“Don’t you ever feel guilty?” she asked, and then realised she’d said it aloud.

There was a pause, and then-

“About what?”

“Ghastly. You’re his friend. He makes all your clothes. He’s like your personal stylist and bodyguard all rolled into one.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s true-“

“It is, it is,” said Valkyrie, gaining steam now. The white hot feeling was back. It was anger at Skulduggery, she realised. “You treat him like, a servant or a lower officer in the army, only the war’s over now. You don’t treat him like a friend. You don’t treat him like someone you feel guilty about, either.”

“I do feel guilty,” Skulduggery said, low and quiet. He hadn’t answered her question.

“How can you sit there in your perfectly tailored suits? You killed Ghastly’s mother, and he probably spends weeks making your shoes! That’s messed up! Why haven’t you told him! I thought he was your friend!”

A feeling of power rushed through Valkryie, but it was nothing like the guilty sort she felt when she was Darquesse. It felt righteous. What she was saying was all true.

Skulduggery said nothing more the entire ride home.

—

She hadn't spoken to Skulduggery for a week. 

There had been no emergencies; she hadn't been needed, and so he hadn't called. 

A part of Valkyrie wondered about whether this was Skulduggery's way of sulking, whether she was being punished. A large part of her tried to care about that, but it was overwhelmed by the angry part of her that said he deserved it. 

She spent the week playing with Alice, hugging her mum. She even went to see her dad's ex-secretary's art exhibition in Haggard's little town hall. The pictures of the woman in homemade food-themed costumes at various Irish landmarks made her feel normal again, banished the thought of the invisible scars covering her body, the thought of Melancholia never to be woken up again in case her magic blew up. 

\---

"I haven't spoken to anyone for a whole month, you know," said Skulduggery, as if this trivia about his life was somehow interesting. Valkyrie ignored him, until the pause became unbearable. She could tell without looking at him that he was waiting for her to come out with a quip. 

She heaved a sigh. 

"And why is that?" 

"Well, I've not been graced by your delightful company."

There was a beat, where last year or even a few months ago she would have replied with something funny, something quick-witted, and then it passed and Skulduggery carried on. 

"Seriously, Valkyrie, are you all right? You've been snappish lately. I know the debacle with the necromancers is hard to process,  but -"

The debacle with the necromancers, he said, as if she and he hadn't had a fight that levelled buildings because of it. As if what she knew about him now didn't change everything. 

"I'm fine." For a second, she wanted to apologise, and then she thought about Lord Vile's calmness as he squeezed out her eyes. 

"Why didn't you talk to Ghastly or someone like that? While I was taking time with my family. I can't be your only friend."

Skulduggery drew back as if she'd slapped him.

"No, of course not. I was just joking around. I'm sorry, I know it's been hard for you."

\---

Her phone buzzed. Valkyrie flopped around in bed for a few seconds, picked up the reflection's phone, threw it to the floor, found her own. It was Ghastly calling. It was 4am. 

"Valkyrie, I'm sorry, there's been an incident with Melancholia. Can you get ready and call Skulduggery - I'm texting you where to meet us."

"Haven't you spoken to Skulduggery already?" Valkyrie asked, voice bleary with sleep, before she remembered why she was angry with him. 

Ghastly's voice cooled noticeably. 

"Skulduggery and I haven't spoken for a few weeks. I thought you knew."

"No, I haven't really seen him..." Valkyrie trailed off into a yawn. 

"Ah. Well, please call him. Bye," he said, and abruptly hung up. 

Valkyrie did so, fighting to put on her trousers one-handed. Once upon a time she'd even slept in her work clothes, and she usually kept them within arm's reach, but her subconscious seemed to have had better ideas. They were hidden somewhere in her floordrobe and Valkyrie couldn't find the rest of her outfit. 

\---

Valkyrie looked at the blood on her hands, looked back at Skulduggery. He was impassive as always. He held Melancholia's dead body in his arms. 

"It had to be done," he said, barely above a whisper. "She was too dangerous."

Valkyrie wanted to throw up. 

\---

Valkyrie was playing alphabet blocks with Alice when it happened. 

Darquesse whispered almost out of hearing.

 _Having trouble with the Detective, are we?_ she asked, voice light and mocking. 

 _Go away,_ Valkyrie thought with as much mental force as she could muster, accidentally knocking down the castle she'd been building with Alice. 

 _I'm waiting, you know,_ Darquesse added. _Waiting to come out._

The lights of the living room shimmered, and the edges of Valkyrie's vision dimmed. 

"I'm sorry, Alice," she whispered, and barely made it to her mother's room with her before the migraine took over. 

\---

The next time Valkyrie saw Skulduggery, he'd brought her DVDs. DVDs, of all the bloody things. 

Valkyrie didn't want to watch DVDs with him. She was sick of the sight of him, to be honest. 

"I know you've been ill," he said perched on the windowsill, voice too-casual. It was midnight. Valkyrie could feel a headache coming on. 

"I can't," she said, voice firm, and the joyful feeling of righteousness was back. This was fair. She was in the right and he was in the wrong. 

"You can't?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the dismay out of his voice. 

"No. The reflection's acting up."

"But surely you'll be fine for the evening, yes? There's an awful lot of casework."

"I don't trust it with Alice," Valkyrie said, playing the trump card, and her traitorous stomach twisted even as Skulduggery, voice soft, said, "Oh. Yes, I understand. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

She watched him leave, and went to bed, and did not cry herself to sleep. 

\---

"Why did you get those DVDs, if all we had to do was casework?" Valkyrie asked. She hadn't slept well and the ominous headaches were back again. The casework was boring, and where before Skulduggery would have cheered her up he only irritated her further. 

"I thought it would be nice, you know, cheer you up. You've been very... Off, lately."

"There's nothing wrong with me. And I'm not a child, you know." Davina Marr's words echoed in her head. "I'm not a pet to be bought treats."

Valkyrie marvelled at how a mass murderer could be hurt by a few words. He stepped back. 

"I know that, Valkyrie. We're equals, you and I. Is that about Da-"

"Yeah, haha, equals," Valkyrie said, voice hollow, and couldn't stop her vision blurring and her eyes watering. "Both of us are evil! We're both super villains with nice masks on. That's great, always how I wanted to be able to relate to someone."

Silence. 

"I need to go home."

He didn't stop her. 

\---

He hadn't contacted her, again, and Valkyrie knew now that he wouldn't have been speaking to anyone else. He was in his house alone, like a coward, and his attempt at some kind of villainous sleepover complete with movies and homework had been pathetic. 

She wasn't sure why she'd ever looked up to him. He'd kicked her door down and saved her life - how? By violence. He'd brought out Darquesse. If she'd never have met him she wouldn't be having these headaches now, this voice in her head. 

\---

There was still time to save herself. 

—

Valkyrie sat in Jane’s house, the best friend she’d only met last week, and marvelled.

The reflection’s memories told her that Jane had a long term boyfriend, who she loved. He had a job at the local bookshop, and he and Jane liked to go swimming together. Valkyrie had liked to swim, too. She’d have loved to have gone swimming, or cycling, or horseriding with any of her friends, but she hadn’t been able to for years. She’d given up every minute of her life since she was twelve for Skulduggery, when she could have been spending it with people her age. It was fine for a twelve year old to think she was a loner, better than everyone else; but she’d been wrong. She’d been missing out. Jane was funny, and pretty, and liked the kind of things Valkyrie thought she would have liked if she hadn’t spent her formative years at the side of a corpse.

Valkyrie smiled at Jane’s joke and took another slice of pizza, seething inside.

—

It only took a call. It took one little call to Ghastly’s mobile late at night, Valkyrie recovering from another searing migraine, afraid of what Skulduggery and Darquesse would do to her if she stayed like this, full of hurt and anger.

It took one little call, and then everything moved so fast.

—

Skulduggery spent a week in prison before he had an accident. 

The whole time he was there, he co-operated fully. He went quietly, one of the Sanctuary officials had told her. No one else had been in touch. Ghastly had handed off the entire operation to Ravel immediately, unable to trust himself to be professional. Valkyrie didn’t know why she’d been left out of it. Had Ravel thought she needed time to grieve? She’d been grieving since the minute she found out about him.

His charred bones were buried miles away, in a town built over the ruins of the one he’d grown up in. Valkyrie didn’t attend the funeral, and found out no one else did, either. Four hundred years of life, and no-one had wanted to commemorate his passing.

She didn’t know who’d killed him. She didn’t want to know.

—

A package turned up at her house a month later.

 _His will and testament_ , the brisk note from Ravel said. _Nothing official_ , it added. _We didn’t want to deal with it_ , were the unwritten words.

Inside the packet were letters, a few dozen of them, ready to be mailed out to various people. Half of the recipients were dead. Valkyrie burnt those over her parent’s stove while they were out one morning, not wanting to do anything that linked her to him, Darquesse.

The others, she kept. She’d ask if they wanted them later, she told herself. Later. Now she needed time.

The final letter was for her. It was the longest and the most up to date. She tried to burn that one, too, several times, but something in her mind wouldn’t let her.

 _Dear Valkyrie_ , it read.

 

_If you’re reading this, I’m no doubt dead, probably in some dashing or heroic manner. Or you’ve been snooping around in my rolltop, in which case, please stop reading now and tell me so I can move this to a more secure location, you sneak._

_Since I’m no longer with you in order to give your life purpose and meaning, I have a few very important things to tell you. First of all, that my years with you were the best of my long life. Now, I’m getting a little old, and so my memory isn’t what it was, but I can confidently say that of what I remember of my life, you have been the highlight. Watching you grow up into an adult has been a privilege, and I have, or, if you’re reading this, had, the greatest respect and reverence for you. You’re a strong, brave, and funny woman, Valkyrie, and I admire that so much. Now that I no longer have to worry about the embarrassment of facing you after you read this, as I am dead again, I can admit that for a while now I’ve carried quite the torch for you_

 

She finally found the strength to burn it, then.

—

Afterward, after the news came that he was dead and she’d finally purged her life of him, and his letters, and the memories of him, the anger faded. The childish glee of being in the right went, and left with it a sickening feeling of wrong, like she’d pushed too far and broken something precious. But there was nothing to do. Valkyrie tried to comfort herself with the thought of the justice served for all his victims, and his victim’s families, but nothing could quite exorcise that warm voice or the feeling of his light, bony hug.

Instead, she looked toward Alice and her family, safe in the knowledge that Darquesse wouldn’t be triggered by another evil altergo again.

—

She never went on detective missions any more. Valkyrie had finally hung up Ghastly’s outfits in her closet, away from the prying eyes of her parents. There they gathered dust. Sometimes Ravel would check up on her, worried sounding, or someone she knew from the Sanctuary. 

Then the phone calls started to sound less worried and concerned for her well-being and more questioning, more angry. They’d uncovered so much of what Skulduggery had done over the years, they said. Did she know anything about it? they asked. She said no, wanting the whole business to be over, realising what she’d done, but the phone calls kept coming. They asked how long she’d know about him being Lord Vile, how she’d learnt, if she’d seen him in the armour, how she’d escaped alive, why she hadn’t told them sooner.

Then someone found out about Darquesse.

It was a silly thing, really. A mortal had been updating his youtube vlog, and blurry footage of she and Skulduggery had made it into the background. It had gone viral and the Sanctuary were firing on all cylinders, trying to find out who the mysterious figure was. And then they did.

Valkyrie laid low at the Sanctuary’s request, then submitted to their questioning, their psychological tests. Again her life became a whirl of late nights at the once-liked building. She never saw her family any more. More than once she was placed under ‘protective’ custody. Sometimes it lasted days.

At last, they let her go. 

—

“Stephanie, the doorbell’s ringing!”

Valkyrie was nearly nodding off into her cereal when she heard her mother call from upstairs.

“I’ll get it!” she yelled, dragging herself to the door. It was China, dressed as a Guard. She winked at Valkyrie.

“I thought one of your family would answer the door,” she said, gesturing at her getup. “You’re needed at the Sanctuary. An apology for your treatment.”

“Why are you here?” Valkyrie asked, not caring how rude it sounded. “I haven’t heard from you for months.”

China looked uncomfortable. “The reason I was gone no longer applies, so, here I am. I’ve started to take on a little pro bono detective work, you see, in exchange for help with Eliza. Ravel’s idea.”

Valkyrie nodded.

“Who is it, Steph?” her mother called.

“Just Jane!” she yelled, and stepped outside. “I’ll be back in a bit!”

“Just a minute,” she said to China, and went upstairs to activate the reflection again.

“Hello,” it said, looking out at the room. “You’ve changed.”

“This is the last time I’m using you, alright,” Valkyrie said. “I’ll be gone for a few hours.”

“Okay,” it nodded, and they went downstairs.

China nodded. “All ready? Good.”

Valkyrie got in the waiting car and they drove off.

—

 

 

 

 

> **Sanctuary Report 201635**

 

 

> Thanks to extensive precedents from both Melancholia St. Clair (a.k.a the Death Bringer) and Skulduggery Pleasant (a.k.a Lord Vile), the termination of Valkyrie Cain (a.k.a Darquesse) was deemed necessary for a series of reasons, summarised in this section of the report:
> 
> \- In both the former cases, the two 'hyperpowerful' mages had to be completely co-operative or unconscious for any sort of attack to have any consequence.
> 
> \- Both Clair and Pleasant had demonstrated the ability to take out vast swathes of mages with lethal force at once, as had Darquesse. Evidence from multiple Sensitives on multiple occasions demonstrated this a fact, as did recovered information from Low and selected Remnants and Remnant-posessed mortals retrieved for interview purposes.
> 
> \- Valkyrie Cain also acted suspiciously in her association with Pleasant, and we suspect that she withheld the information about his being Lord Vile for her own gain, as a form of misdirection from her own hyperpowered alterego. 
> 
>  - All three of these mages have shown psychological instability. Testing on Cain confirmed that Darquesse’s takeover of Cain’s consciousness was inevitable and would soon have been permanent. For these reasons, summarised here (see page 6 for the reasons for the action taken in full) China Sorrows was assigned to bring Cain in under false pretences in order to give a Sanctuary sniper the best chance of taking a shot to the brain ( according to Sensitives, the only thing guaranteed to stop her apparent healing powers) without Darquesse being awoken.
> 
> Sorrows volunteered for this assignment to act as bait as her powers make it easy to put people at ease, and because of her personal rapport with Cain. She called it, _“my duty to the poor girl”._
> 
>  The mission was a complete success.


End file.
